


More Than This

by jenorama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:05:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7578775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenorama/pseuds/jenorama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny has come to a crossroads in her life and lets Harry know about a decisions she's made.  Originally published 12 years ago, this is part of my "Reconnecting" Potterverse and is AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than This

More Than This

by Jenorama

And just like that, he's gone. One minute, we're talking and laughing, enjoying the excellent house wine and the next, he's got that funny look, that look that is never good news. “Shit! Gin, I'm sorry. I've got to go.”

I know my role and I play it well. I should get a BAFTA for all the acting I've had to do over the years. Maybe one day, I'll get a lifetime achievement award, finally receiving the recognition I deserve. “Go, Harry. It's okay. I'll see you later.” I smile my professional you're-going-to-be-just-fine-we'll-have-those-horns-off-in-a-trice smile to make it easier for him.

Not looking back at me, he quickly threads his way through the tables in the Muggle restaurant, making a beeline for the men's toilets. Shaking my head, I knock back the rest of my wine, signaling the waiter for a takeaway box for the remains of our dinners. If he comes to see me as he usually does when he's finished with whatever emergency has taken him away, he'll be ravenous.

“Um, excuse me?” I look up at the unaccustomed American accent. A young man with longish, dirty-blond hair is standing next to my table, looking uncomfortable.

“Yes?”

“Um, that dude? In the bathroom? He said to give you this, okay?” The young man thrusts a wad of bills at me and turns away, going back to his own table.

“Harry. What am I going to do with you?” I leave the whole wad on the table, not even sure how much the bill is and not really caring. It's a nice night and I feel like walking, so I walk, a part of me perversely hoping to make Harry wait for me, this time.

I know that won't be the case, though. He never waits for me. He is never left home, wondering if I'm going to come home in one piece. He is never the one that has to open the door, cringing at what or who might be behind it.

As I knew it would be, my flat is empty and silent. Not for the first time, I think I should get a pet. Just to have someone glad to see me when I get home. Someone that I know won't need to just literally pop out of existence at the drop of a hat. Someone without a tattoo.

Stowing the food in the refrigerator, I make my way to my bedroom, pausing in front of the full-length mirror on my wardrobe. I look back at my reflection, noting that I'm dressed very nicely for a not-date. I hang my skirt and blouse, hitting them with a freshening charm before hanging them in my wardrobe and changing into an old tee shirt and flannel pajama bottoms.

Back in the kitchen, I make some tea and settle down to wait, thumbing through the latest issue of “Magical Healing Today,” but I can't concentrate on it. Tossing the journal to the end of the sofa, I sip my tea and stare off into space. What am I doing here? There's got to be something more than this. Ever since Mattie, I feel like my life is on hold, like I'm waiting for something to happen or someone to come and make me live again.

I had thought that person was Harry, but it seems I was wrong. Harry has too many of his own issues to deal with; he doesn't have time to worry about keeping my own little life on an even keel as well.

“Okay, Weasley, enough of the self-pity, already.” I can't wait for someone else to kick-start my life; I've got to do that myself. I rummage in my desk until I find them, the catalogues and brochures I've begun collecting. The glossy pages are full of pictures of happy students pursuing various activities. A boy and a girl are smiling at each other over a stack of books in what looks like a well-stocked library. Another girl balances a load of books and a lunch tray. A group of boys and girls relax, chatting by a fountain.

The words in the brochures are mostly worthless hyperbole, extolling the virtues of their particular institution of higher learning. I look through them all for what could be the millionth time, inserting myself in place of the happy girls. One thing all of these places have in common is the fact that they're all in America. Well, one's in Canada, but still, very, very far away from home.

I don't know what put the idea of Muggle medical school in my head first, but it's there now. I suppose it could have been that awful Christmas holiday in my fourth year when that horrible snake attacked Dad and we were all fascinated by the unsuccessful attempt to sew him up. At that age, I already knew that I wanted to fix people. After all, I was drawn to Harry and he was the most broken person I knew.

I pick up the brochure for one school in particular. It's in a place called San Francisco, in California. When I got that one, I pulled out a map and studied it. It looks to me like San Francisco, California is about the furthest I can get from home before west turns to east again and I begin to move closer. It helps my argument that this school is not just far away, but that's it's arguably one of the best medical schools in the country, if not the world. Once there, I will be so busy that I won't have time to miss home, my family, my work…Harry.

As always, he intrudes on my thoughts and I think about tonight and our curious not-date. In his usual custom, he'd owled me out of the blue and asked if I was free tonight for a friendly dinner. We hadn't had much time to talk since that awful-wonderful night that Matt had dumped me and he said that he wanted to see how I was doing.

Telling myself that it wasn't a date, that it was just dinner with Harry, I dressed carefully. While dressing, I thought about what I wanted to say to him tonight. We've had dinner loads of times before, but something about this one felt different and I knew that if I didn't say something, if I didn't reveal my true feelings, that I would never have the opportunity again.

Due to my anxiety over the night, I was ready ahead of time and I took the opportunity to do some straightening up around my small flat. The multi-colored brochures were scattered across my coffee table and I stacked them up neatly, running my hand over the top one. If I went through with what I was thinking of, this wouldn't happen for me. I would not go to San Francisco, or Boston or Austin and immerse myself in a Muggle medical program. I would not leave my home, my family, my work or Harry. Would I be okay with that? I heard the soft knock on my door, announcing Harry's arrival and I smiled, putting the brochures away in my desk drawer. Yes, I would be okay with that.

 

And here I am again, alone and waiting. I had hoped that with age and maturity, I would be more settled to this, but I'm not and I know now that I never will be. I'm not content to sit and wait for Harry to be available for me. I'm selfish and I want him here with me when I come home from St Mungo's. I want him to be focused only on me and not on something that only he can feel. I'm tired of him being stolen away from me. I'm tired of fixing him.

My tea is stone cold now, but I drink it anyway. Decision made, I summon a Muggle pen and the stack of applications. Time for me to start my own life. I can't wait around any longer.

*~*~*~*

I check my watch and groan at the time. Eleven o'clock. I quickly sign my name on the report, pressing hard with the quill to ensure the duplication, in triplicate, of the activities of the evening.  
When I had felt the burn while sitting at the table with Ginny, I had been merely annoyed. When I Apparated at my destination, I was incensed. My summoner, Derek Partridge, was well known throughout the department as one of the most hapless Aurors to ever come out of the academy. How he passed the final exam I'll never know.

“Oh, Potter! Thank God you're here!” Relief was evident on his wide face and his whole body seemed to sag.

_Like I had any choice in the matter,_ I thought, remembering the expression on Ginny's face when I told her I had to go. I hoped that bloke in the loo gave her the money; I didn't relish the idea of her being stuck with the bill. “Right. Okay, Partridge, what's the deal?”

“Oh, Harry, it's all gone wrong! I've really buggered it up this time!” He stood there, wringing his big hands as though he were Little Bo Peep and all his sheep had gone missing. I felt a headache coming on and I closed my eyes, hoping to head it off.

“What happened?” I asked sharply, hoping to curtail any further theatrics, my heart sinking lower and lower as he explained his predicament. It was a simple operation, just an escort job, really. He was to escort the spirited teenaged daughter of the visiting German Minister for International Magical Cooperation on a shopping expedition in Muggle London.

“And I looked away for a minute at a display in a shop window. They had them watches what like you got and when I looked back, she'd gone!” He wrung his hands again and looked like he was about to cry. “I looked all over for her, sir, and I just couldn't find her! If I don't find her, I'm going to get the sack for sure!”

_And you'd deserve it,_ was my uncharitable thought as I blew out a long breath. Why? Why did he call me? Andy was definitely more suited to finding willful teenaged girls who'd run off from their Ministry-appointed guard than I. But, I already knew the answer to that. He'd called me because I am Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and now, apparently, the Wrangler of Misplaced Teenagers.

“Okay,” I said, scrubbing my hands over my face, “how long has she been gone?”

“Two hours, sir,” he said sheepishly, not meeting my eyes.

“Two hours? You have a Minister's daughter missing and you don't call anyone for two bloody hours?” I couldn't help it and the words just exploded out of me, making the unfortunate Auror cower.

“I was lookin', sir, I—”

I held up my hand and shook my head. “Not another word, Partridge. Show me where you lost her.”

He seemed relieved to stop talking and led me back to the window with the handsome display of watches. There were indeed some Hugo Magnussen watches there, but the ones he makes for the Muggle market, with none of the magical bells and whistles that mine has.  
 I scanned the area quickly, taking in the nearby shops and pubs in the bustling street. We were by Leicester Square and I turned a full circle, looking for things that might have caught the fancy of a teenaged girl. Two hours. If he had had the brains to call me two hours ago, I could have canceled out on Ginny with good grace instead of having to leave her in the middle of dinner. I would not have had to leave her for the umpteenth time. I would not have had to see the look on her face.

Nothing jumped out at me, so I ask Partridge to retrace their earlier steps and we start walking back toward Covent Garden. It was full dark by then, and I was starting to feel anxious about finding the girl. I doubt anyone around there had any idea of her parentage, but I'd seen the pictures of her distributed around the department and she was definitely pretty enough to attract the attention of the abundant, non-magical predators in the city.

“There was a street performer here, earlier. We watched him for a while and then moved on.” Partridge pointed to the now empty square and it didn't take much for me to figure out what happened. Tired of not having any company her own age, she'd taken advantage of Partridge's distraction with the watches and scarpered off back here, where she watched the performer and probably found some other kids her age.

There were easily a dozen pubs in the area alone, all of them packed to the gills and I was certain she'd be in one of them. I advised Partridge that we should split up, pointing out the pubs I would take and telling him to send a Summons if he finds her. I would do the same and I admit that I looked forward to the opportunity to make him burn. I happened to know exactly where his tattoo was and I know that if anyone had told him how uncomfortable a summons can get, he would have put it somewhere less…sensitive.

I turned up the collar of my dragonhide jacket and plunged into the first pub, being careful to check both floors and all of the rooms, including the women's loo. After an hour of searching, I found her in the fourth pub I visited, ensconced in a comfortable-looking sofa and surrounded by laughing, chattering boys and girls. For a moment I was sorely tempted to get a pint and join them, but I hastily squelched the desire.

Taking advantage of the crowd, I surreptitiously cast a translation charm on myself, enabling me to understand and speak flawless German. I approached the table and she looked at me uncertainly and I tried to put her at ease with a warm smile. “Tania,” I said in perfect German, putting a hand on her shoulder, “your friend Derek Partridge sent me to find you.” Her face fell; she knew the jig was up. Taking leave of her new friends, she followed me meekly out of the pub and into the street.

We strolled into a dim alleyway where I set my wand on the upper portion of my right thigh and performed the Summons, making sure to use the “urgent” tag for the maximum burn. Derek Apparated into the alley with an almost imperceptible pop and I shook my head. Silent Apparition was one of the Auror's most valuable tools and he must have been extremely agitated to let that little sound escape.

When he saw Tania whole and unhurt, the big lummox almost embarrassed himself with thanking me and apologizing. “I have to file a report,” I said and he nodded silently.

“Yeah, I know. Potter, sir, this job means everything to me and I swear I won't screw up like that again. If you could do me the favor of leaving out—”

“The fact that you waited two hours before calling me?” I raised my eyebrow and he flushed a dark red.

“Yeah.”

“Look, get Tania back to her father and I'll consider it.” He was a good man and I knew how ornery kids out looking for fun could be. I left them and then Apparated to the office to file the report as quickly as possible.

I look at my watch again, cursing the time I lost because I forgot to take off the translation charm and wrote half of my report in German before I realized it. I am sure Ginny is furious at me and I think about what I had planned to say to her tonight.

I go over the little speech in my head as I check over my report. Maybe it's not too late and I can still deliver it. Maybe I haven't missed my chance to tell her that I love her and I want to be with her. Finished reading over my report, I send it over to the captain's inbox and Apparate directly to the hallway in front of Ginny's door.

Staring at the door, I feel the small fluttering of butterflies in my stomach and I swallow, ready to face Ginny's wrath. She opens the door almost before I am finished knocking and she peers anxiously at me, her face pale. I can't stand the fact that I put that look there and I spread my arms and turn around, letting her see that I am whole and unhurt.

After she verifies my status, she invites me in and begins making tea and warming up the remains of our dinners, causing my stomach to rumble loudly. We settle down at the small breakfast bar of her tiny flat and I dig in heartily, answering her questions about what called me away tonight.

“So this bloke lost a girl and he had to call you when he could have called anyone else?” she asks with a frown.

“Yep.”

“Well why did he call you?”

I shrug, mopping up some sauce with a slice of bread. “Don't know. Guess it's because I'm a nice guy, yeah?”

She snorts softly and pushes my shoulder. “Nice guy. Why don't you pull the other leg, it plays 'Jingle Bells.’”

“Does it? I might have to one day.” I look at her, glad to see her smile again and I feel another outbreak of butterflies. _It's just Gin,_ I chide myself as I finish my tea. What's the big deal? The big deal is the simple fact that this is Ginny, the woman I've been in love with for what seems like forever and the only one I've never been able to replace with anyone else.

“What?” she asks and I realize I've been staring at her.

“Nothing.” She gives me a funny look and gathers up our dishes, quickly cleaning them and refills my cup. I watch her as she works with an economy of motion. Sometimes I think that she would have made an excellent Auror, but there's no way I would want her out there, facing the dangers that Ron and I deal with on a daily basis.

I take my full cup and move to sit on the sofa, my eye drawn to the brightly-colored brochures scattered on the coffee table. Curious, I pick one up and look at it, feeling my stomach plummet. It's a brochure for a school in the United States, for Boston University, in fact. There's another one for a school in New York, Chicago, someplace in Texas and California. There's even a one for a place in Canada.

“Gin, what are these?” I ask, hoping that they're nothing, hoping that she's not leaving.  
She joins me on the sofa, tucking her feet underneath her and leaning away from me. Plucking the brochure from my hand, she opens it and looks through it. “These are brochures for schools.”

“Well, I see that. What sort of schools? These all look like Muggle universities.”

“They are. Muggle universities with excellent medical programs.”

My stomach sinks lower and I feel my dinner roll around uncomfortably. “Oh. Muggle medical programs?”

“Yes.” She puts the brochure down and picks up another one. “This one has the most highly-regarded program in the United States. This is my first choice.” Ginny passes me the pamphlet and I take it, numbly staring down at it. This one is for a school in San Francisco and it takes me a moment, but I am able to search my brain and find the location, a glowing red dot in my mind's eye.

A glowing red dot about five thousand miles away. I clear my throat and blink rapidly, trying to clear my eyes that have decided to go blurry on me. “This one, huh? San Francisco, California. That's pretty far away.”

“It is. You're not upset...are you?”

I turn to look at her, feeling my throat tighten. She's shifted and now has her knees drawn up to her chest, resting her chin on them. I know she's watching me closely and I work hard to hide my distress. “No, I'm not upset. Why would I be? This is a great opportunity for you, Gin. If you want to learn Muggle healing, you should. I know you'll be fantastic at it.” My voice is full of cheer that rings hollow in my ears, but it seems to satisfy her and she leans back and smiles, telling me about the things she hopes to learn.

My heart constricts as she talks, and I ask questions I know I won't remember the answers to. Inside, I am screaming at myself to shut her up with a kiss and tell her that I don't want her to go anywhere, that I want her to stay here with me, but I don't. I smile and nod, following the animated movements of her hands with my eyes. Her eyes are sparkling and her cheeks are flushed, her hair slipping out its bun and getting into her eyes.

“What made you decide to take up Muggle medicine? Why now?” I ask, hoping my voice sounds casual.

She looks pensive for a moment before answering. “I've always been fascinated with healing and, well, with my dad, it's hard not to be curious about the Muggle world as well. I still remember when Healer Smethwyck tried to patch up Dad. Of course, it didn't work, but there's always a chance of running into something that can't be cured by magic.” She is silent and I almost ask my second question again, but she starts talking.

“As to why now, well, it just seems to feel right. After everything with Mattie,” her eyes slide away from me and she looks at the fire instead, “it just seems like I need to be getting on with something. I feel like I've stagnated here. It's time for a change, you know?”

I nod, wishing the tightness in my throat would just go away. “Yeah, I know.” I force a smile and stand up, pulling on my dragonhide jacket. “Well, congratulations, Gin. I'm assuming you haven't told your parents, yet?”

“No, I haven't.” She stands and stretches, her tee shirt riding up to give me a peek at her belly button. “God, that's one conversation I'm not looking forward to having. Maybe I'll just skip town and not tell anyone where I've gone. You'd keep my secret, wouldn't you?”

Seeing as how I'm damned good at keeping my own secret, hers shouldn't be a problem at all. “Of course I would. You don't even have to ask.” I look down at her and my heart does a little stutter and for a crazy moment I think of throwing her over my shoulder and running away to somewhere where there are no such things as dark wizards or the Aurors that are needed to catch them.

Instead, I hug her, reveling in the feeling of her arms around me and her body against mine. “Thank you,” she murmurs into my chest.

“For what?” My cheek rests on the top of her soft hair and the heady scent of it is killing me.

“For being you.”

“I don't know how to be anyone else.”

“Good.” She pulls away and I think for a moment that I see the shine of unshed tears in her eyes before she blinks. We stand there, looking at each other, and it feels like we're on the edge of an emotional cliff. My mind screams at me to open my mouth and say the words I've been practicing all night and I take a breath, but she beats me to it. “Thanks for sending that bloke out with the cash. I didn't have any Muggle money one me.”

Disappointment crashes through me. The moment has evaporated and I don't know how to get it back. “Only appropriate of me. I did invite you out, after all. Did you get my change?”

“Change? I just left it all on the table.”

“You left it all on the table? Didn't you count it?”

“No.”

I smack my forehead in mock dismay, making her giggle. “Well you made our waiter's day. I had about seventy pounds in my pocket!”

“Harry Potter, last of the big tippers!”

“Only against my will.” I share her laughter and I can feel a little of the heaviness leave me and I hug her again, kissing the top of her head. “Thanks for saving dinner for me.”

“Anytime.” She pulls away from me again and punches my arm. “Jamie.”

I push her shoulder, making her stumble backwards a step. I feel like a stupid schoolboy again, reduced to physical violence to express my feelings. “Ginevra.” She grins and punches me again, harder this time, dropping back a couple of steps into the easy, bent-kneed stance Ron and I had taught her. I know that if I go after her, we will most likely end up in bed and would that be so bad?

_No, it wouldn’t,_ I decide and I take a step toward her, confident of breaking through her guard when, for the second time that night, I feel the sharp burn my shoulder. Something in my face must betray me because she straightens up and loses all pretenses at play. “Harry?”

“Yeah. Sorry, Gin. Busy night, I guess.” The burn intensifies and I gasp. Whatever is waiting for me isn't just a misplaced girl.

“You'd better go. Be safe.” Her hand is cool against my cheek and I nod.

“I will. See you.” I Apparate out of her flat and come back a split second later in front of Ron, his mouth set in a grim line. I push all thoughts of Ginny and what might have been but now never will be and shake my head, ready to focus on the task at hand, nodding at Ron's quick briefing of the situation.

“Sorry about the summons, mate. It just got ugly really fast. I didn't interrupt anything?” he asks, eying my dragonhide jacket and button-up shirt.

“No worries. Let's go.” I follow him closely, desperately trying to banish my last image of Ginny.

*~*~*~*

Alone again. Harry's abrupt disappearance seems to have left a void in my flat and I rub my bare arms, staring at the spot he so recently occupied. I turn back to the sofa and the application I had been working on. I could complete it, but I know I would only be working on it to fill the time until Harry shows up again.

Sighing, I stack the colorful brochures and set the application neatly on top of it. I'll finish it tomorrow. Turning out the lights in the lounge, I yawn and make my way to my bed. I feel traitorous that I'm not waiting up for Harry, but I tell myself that that part of my life is over now. It's late and I'm tired of waiting.


End file.
